


And to Begin Again

by sightandsound3733



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Confusion, M/M, Wash time travels to stop Freelancer from falling apart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightandsound3733/pseuds/sightandsound3733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second chances are hard to come by, but when given the chance are you ever really ready in facing your past so you can change your future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first thing I've posted for the RvB fandom and something I've been thinking about for a while now. Hope you guys like it! Next chapter should be coming up relatively soon!

_It was too much. The deafening noise of the gunshots, the cacophony of voices from both sides shouting, the pain that surged through his body like fire, chased quickly by ice as he felt blood spill between the shaky fingers he pressed to the holes in his stomach._

_“I don’t think he’s gonna make it!”_

_“No that’s bullshit! Do something!”_

_“Tucker… hold on…”_

_“No!” Hands like a vice on his shoulders, even as he faltered and fell to the ground, rough, bloody coughs ripping through him as his vision blurred and dimmed. “No we are not losing him! We aren’t losing anyone else!”_

_“Fuck. Fuck, we can’t stop the bleeding--”_

_“Shut up! He’s fine! We’ll fix it! We have to fucking fix it!”_

_“Tucker… I’m sorry I couldn’t--”_

_“Shut the fuck up! You’re gonna be fine! You--- You have to be! Wash!”_

_“Agent Washington…” Oh. Caboose. “Are… are you okay?”_

_“No… No I’m not Caboose. I’m sorry.” It was so cold. There were hands on him, shaking his shoulders, trying to rouse him and keep him conscious and he wanted to stay, wanted to help but he was just so tired. “I’m so sorry…”_

_“It’s okay Agent Washington. If you have to go now that’s okay. You look really tired.”_

_“I am…” A warm little smile crossed his lips, and he knew it was mirrored back under the visor of the blue helmet. The hands at his shoulders were shaking now, but they weren’t shaking him. They were just shaking. He weakly reached up, curling twitchy, nearly unresponsive fingers around the gloved hand that held to him so tightly. “It’s okay Tucker… It’s okay…”_

_A blur of colors swam before his fading vision. Warm splashes of red and orange dominated one side, all huddled together around him. Cooler shades flushed his field of vision, before it all swirled to black, a nice deep blue and a shock of aqua. He had to smile again. They were safe and together._

_“Nothing can stop you Reds and Blues…” His words were slurred now, he was finding it hard to focus and stay tethered, even if the grip on his shoulders had tightened almost painfully. Not that he could feel much of anything anymore._

_Dying was actually kind of nice. The pain was fading now, the burn following it out, leaving behind only a cloying numbness that slowly filled the crevices in his mind and the spaces between his aching joints. He didn’t know if he believed in heaven, in something after all the hell on earth he’d been through, but he couldn’t help but think of maybe getting to see everyone he’d lost again._

_He thought of North, and his warm smiles, hidden from him for so long. Of York and his laughter and how it was a sound he’d fought to forget because it hurt to much to have it echo in his mind. Of the three of them together, trying to hide from the awful things that were always threatening to rip them apart. It had been so long. He hoped he’d see them again._

_“I think I have to go now…” He let his eyes close and his breathing started to fade out with the pain. “I have to see them again. I have to…”_

_“Wash! Come on-- No! No, no, no you can’t leave! You can’t die! Not after all this! Wash! Come on! Wash!”_

_I’m sorry…_

**_“WASH!”_ **

“Wash come on! What are you doing?!”

With a roar, everything flared to life around him, the familiar sounds of guns and people shouting echoing in chaos in much the same way as before. Wash blinked from inside his helmet… the helmet he hadn’t been wearing because Locus had confiscated their armor after they were captured.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, half hidden behind what seemed to be a partially destroyed computer terminal, still smoking around him. “What…?” His eyes flickered reflexively around his HUD, watching as stats and information were brought up that didn’t make any sense.

He'd been shot in the chest and stomach, several times, as well as suffering from multiple knife wounds and electrical burns. Locus was very creative and extensive in his how he spent his time with the captives. But according to the readout in his helmet, he was almost completely fine except for some relatively expansive bruising.

Wash blinked and tried to swallow back what felt like the type of nausea that he used to associate with Epsilon and those memories that plagued him from the inside out for years. _Where am I? Where are the others?_

He tried to swallow back the panic that was threatening to join the confusion, needing to stay lucid and calm because otherwise every thing would fall apart. Reaching a hand out to steady himself, he found an assault rifle discarded on the ground beside him. It fit in his grasp all too familiarly, which only served to confuse him more. Nothing was making sense, he hadn’t had access to this particular type of rifle since Project Freelancer, and that was long gone. So what--

“Wash! Get off your ass and let’s go! Evac’s here, come on!” Wash whipped around so fast at that voice in his headset that he thinks he might have broken something. That wasn’t Tucker shouting at him anymore, that was for sure. But… there’s no way. No fucking way that that’s who he thinks it is.

But sure enough there’s all too familiar brown armor barreling toward him, hand outstretched to pull him to his feet and yank him toward a waiting Pelican through a hail storm of bullets. CT was shouting obscenities as she all but threw him into the back of the ship before jumping on herself, shooting back a few more times over her shoulder for good measure.

“Let’s go!” She called up to the front to the waiting pilot, throwing off her helmet in frustration as they took off jerkily into the air, still dodging fire. Wash couldn’t help the way his breath caught and how his heart felt like it had stopped dead in his chest.

“Connie…?”

“What the fuck was that, Washington?” She was pissed and she was glaring at him and he knows that he should be concerned about that, probably fear for his life a little because he just didn’t know any women that weren’t moderately terrifying but all he could do was gape at her because she was supposed to be dead.

“I don’t… What the fuck is going on?!” He pushed himself to his feet, head swimming as he tried to grasp what was happening. There was no way he was back here with her, in this armor. Freelancer was dead, she was dead.

“Did you bash your head? What’s wrong with you? We were on a mission! Which we fucking failed!” She crossed her arms, glaring only more intensely at him. He shook his head. Nothing was making sense. This felt too real to be a dream, or some twisted memory, she was too real.

“I don’t… fuck.” He reached out to steady himself on one of the seats that lined the Pelican walls, forcing himself to sit down. He shut his eyes tight and tried to process things, to try to understand the only explanation he could think of even when it was the most ridiculous thing ever. Of all time. But sitting where he was it was also the only one that even started to make sense.

The Reds and Blues had told him about when they had time traveled via the bomb, about the things they changed and saw. But that was different, that had some weird fucked up AI timed shit going on with it and he… well he had died. He had died after being injured and rescued from the Federal Army, with Tucker screaming at him not to leave.

“Wash?” Connie had moved closer to him now, her anger fading into concern. She sat next to him, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re kind of freaking me out. Did you actually get hit with something?” Hearing her voice was something he never thought he’d ever get again and it was just so… nice. He felt like he could cry.

“I’m… I don’t know. I… can you clear a few things up?” He risked looking at her, not entirely too sure how much of all this he could take as all of this seemed to become real.

“Sure?” She ran a hand through her short hair, only to have it flop back into her face again.

“I...is everyone okay? On the team, we still have everyone right?”

“What?” She blinked at him in surprise. “Well, yeah. I mean, last time I checked. North and South had a mission earlier and we left before they got back but you know the Dakotas. There’s nothing they can’t handle together.” She was watching him carefully, eyes narrowing in on him in concern and confusion. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The Dakotas. They were alive. Everyone… everyone was alive. Memories flooded his vision, of friends and more, of nights stolen in silence where touch was the language that he never thought he’d get back. Of North and York and things he’d pushed away since Epsilon. Things that he could have again because they were alive... Wash had to bite down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to start hyperventilating, to force his voice into something that resembled normalcy.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, Connie I’m fine. Don’t… I just got shaken up by a hit, or something I…”

“Okay… well shake that off, alright?” She pulled her hand back, leaning into her seat now, looking so tired. “We failed our mission and we have to face the Director for it. Fuck, as if I want to deal with that.”

The Director.

Wash had to physically restrain himself from reacting. Of course the Director was still alive. If all the others were that would only mean that everything the Director had done, to them, the AIs, to everyone, hadn't gone into action yet. He bit harder down on his cheek, not even reacting when he tasted blood as he bit too hard. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, how he was supposed to handle all this, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had apparently been sent back in time to before the fall of Project Freelancer. Okay. Sure. That… that happened.

“It’ll be alright.” He told Connie, trying to get the image of her armor buried in the sand, or Carolina telling him about how Texas had killed her in cold blood after she had betrayed them to fight the Director out of his head.

She sighed and leaned against him, in a rare moment of her actually relaxing. “I hope you’re right, Wash.”

He bit his lip and tried to relax into the feeling of her against him again after so long. Fuck he’d missed her, missed how simple things used to be with them. If he was remembering things right, everything would change soon and… And he knew enough that he might be able to stop it.

The thought was enough to almost make him go rigid against her, but he caught himself. He wasn’t a rookie anymore. He’d lived and fought through so much shit that he wasn’t the same soldier he had been in Freelancer. He’d always thought he’d give anything to be able to go back and change things. And here he was. Back again in a Pelican, with Connie against him and those he cared most about alive.

Wash felt the steel resolve forming in his mind, felt it just as strongly as he had the moment he had understood Epsilon’s mess enough to know he needed to save the AI and help the Alpha. He had somehow been given this insane chance and he wasn't going to give it up for anything.

“We’ll be fine.” He muttered to her, his hand finding her easily to give it a squeeze. “I promise, we’ll be fine.”

It was all he could do to hope that wouldn't end up being just another fucking lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay! Thank you all so much for the positive acceptance! Don't really have all that much to say, but here's the next chapter! I know it's slow going, but keep patience, dears. Enjoy!

Wash was trying really fucking hard not to hyperventilate.

He had managed to keep everything together and calm for the rest of the ride back to the Mother of Invention. Seeing the ship again and the familiar halls was definitely a trip, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He ignored the concerned glances Connie kept shooting from across the med bay, letting the medics check him over without complaint, resisting the instinctual urge to shy away from their poking and prodding.

After reassuring her again that he was fine, they had trekked off together to report their mission and that’s when he froze.

Stood rigid before them in parade rest, was the Director.

Wash knew he had to be almost unnaturally still, standing beside Connie as she gave their mission report. The Director didn’t look at them, didn’t even really address them, choosing to let the Counselor speak in that deadened voice of his instead. He was quite sure he had never been as angry as he was to be standing in front of this man again after so long. He had dedicated years fighting through all the bullshit this man had left in his wake, had spent time in prison for being a soldier under his command, and knew every single atrocity he had ever committed thanks to the AI that self-destructed in his mind, nearly taking Wash with it.

He hated this man so much, and to have to stand at attention in front of him again was enough to make him feel sick.

He let Connie do all the talking, which admittedly must have seemed odd. He had always been the one to run their mission recaps if Carolina wasn’t leading the team, if only because of how close to the book he knew the rules and regulations.

 _Fuck their rules. I’m so done with their rules._ Wash grit his teeth inside of his helmet as the Director spun on his axis to face them now. Connie went stiff beside him and it took everything he had not to let his fingers twitch toward the pistol at his hip.

“The mission was a failure,” The Director’s voice was cold as Wash had ever remembered hearing it. “Agent Connecticut, you were tasked with retrieving the data from their consoles. Data that we sorely needed to track the extended movement of the Insurgent’s forces and allies.”

“I know, sir.” She didn’t falter under his gaze. Wash glanced away from him, choosing to look toward the Counselor instead, watching the shell of a man type out various commands into his tablet. He could feel it when the Director chose to turn his eyes on him. There was a beat of silence before he addressed the agents again.

“A change in the board will be made to reflect the outcome of these events. Counselor,” He turned back toward the board without another word, watching silently as Connie’s name blipped off the board. Wash’s didn’t move a single inch.

He forced himself not to react, even as he could feel Connie take a step forward. “Sir?” She asked, her voice tight.

The Director barely spared her a glance over his shoulder. “Agent Washington fulfilled his mission objectives. He was to hack around the security system to get you in and provide cover. Which he did, while you failed to recover the data. His spot on the board accurately reflects his performance in the field.”

“...Yes, sir.” Her voice was tight with anger and Wash winced inwardly. Awesome. One more thing to add to the list. The Counselor dismissed them gently and Connie spun on her heel and all but stormed out of the room. Wash was about to follow behind her, when a call of his name stopped him.

“Agent Washington,” Wash turned back around, his hands clasped behind his back, if only so he had something to grip onto. The Counselor studied him dispassionately. Wash wanted to throwing things at him.

“Yes, Counselor?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, sir”

“Do you not agree with my decision to keep you on the board?” The Director asked suddenly, not bothering to turn around. The Counselor seemed surprised at this sudden question, but Wash wasn’t.

“Nothing like that, sir.” He swallowed back the sickly sweet taste of nausea on his tongue. “I am merely surprised. The mission was a failure, and that was by the fault of both CT and myself. I had expected to have been treated accordingly.”

“You completed your objectives.” The Director turned to face him, mouth still set in it’s line. “I am not in the habit of reprimanding my agents when it is undeserved, Agent Washington. You did well.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wash dipped his head quickly in a manner of acceptance, hating himself all the while. He could feel his calm start to shake the longer he spent in this room.

“Before you go, Agent Washington,” The Counselor stepped forward a bit as the Director looked away yet again, “You did speak to Internal Affairs before your mission, did you not?” Wash had no idea if he had actually done that, but the Counselor never asked questions like that without knowing the answer so he merely gave a sharp nod. “Please keep in mind what you’ve heard about the information leaks. We cannot afford to have any sort of weakness against the Insurrection.”

“Of course not. I understand completely.” _What a round about way to ask me to spy on my teammates. Can’t believe I never saw it before hand._ Satisfied with those answers he was dismissed only moments later and it was all he could to do completely hold things together.

He walked for the locker room, intending to take a few minutes to steal away to a shower and let the hot water just wash over him, wanting to try and actually take stock of seeing the Director and what being back actually fucking meant. He hadn’t expected to run into Connie, sitting with a glare aimed at the leaderboard. The set of her shoulders were high and tight and shit, he remembered this moment with a frightening amount of clarity all of a sudden, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. He bit his lip, knowing he had to at least try and fix things.

“Connie, don’t do this to yourself,” Wash moved forward toward her, hands out in a gesture of peace. “It’s not worth it.”

“I’m not doing anything, Wash.” She whipped around, turning her glare on him now. “What do you want? Are you here to try and give me a pep talk? Tell me not to be so hard on myself?” She ran a hand through her hair roughly. “Tell me that it’s not a big deal and try to play it off?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s bullshit what happened. We both fucked up and both should have been treated the same. But that’s not what happened and there’s nothing we can do about it. And you sitting here being mad at me isn’t going to change anything with the board or the Director and how he does things, so don’t waste your time and just fucking stop.”

She blinked in surprise at him, some of the defensiveness bleeding out of her stance. He couldn’t help the little smirk that played at his lips, unseen. He’d never really realized how much he’d changed until now. “Thought I was the only one around here who’d started to see what was going on,” She shifted her weight a bit, watching him carefully. Wash shrugged, looking over her shoulder to the board, where North’s name had already passed South’s, which meant he was already back on board somewhere.

“It’s not hard to see what’s happening.” He shrugged again, not really knowing what else to do with himself. It was weird, a twisted version of deja vu almost.“We just can’t let it.”

“Can’t let it? God, Wash. I knew you didn’t get it.” Connie scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. Wash tried not to bristle as she abruptly walked toward him. “It’s already starting to happen. We’re a group of competitive fucking people, Wash. He’s got us playing into his hands. Ranking us like this is only going to cause problems.”

“Only if we let it. I personally don’t give a fuck what rank I am.” She barked a laugh at him, a mean sound that he really didn’t appreciate. His hand caught on her arm sharply, in a move that surprised even him. “And if you’re laughing at me then you really don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

She was surprised again, her eyes wide with it. He let her go and turned to walk away, the tension back with the uneasiness. It was too hard to do this. To not just scream at her and tell her that he knew what she was planning and that if she didn’t stop she’d end up dead.

“No fuck it, I’m not doing this.” He shook his head and stepped away from her quickly. “I can’t do this.” He turned around, ignoring her as she called out his name, only quickening his pace further. Wash bit down on the inside of his cheek again, and headed on autopilot toward his room, fingers coming up to unlock his helmet from his armor before he even got there. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the futility of it hitting him.

Connie wasn’t going to change her mind. At this point she’d already been working with the Insurrection and there was nothing he could do to stop her. He knew this because he had all the information from before, from being Recovery One and from Epsilon and the research he’d done after everything had fallen to shit. _Can’t believe I had a split second where I thought it could be different_.

He punched in his access code, something he never thought he’d need ever again but that he’d never forget, and slipped inside, throwing his helmet against the opposite wall with a strangled, frustrated shout. He closed the door, not bothering with the lights and buried his fingers in his hair.

“How am I supposed to do this? I can’t do this, I don’t--- Fuck!” He shut his eyes tight, pulling just hard enough at his hair for it to hurt and sank down onto the edge of his bed. Alone now, he let his thoughts run wild. Every emotion, the anger at the Director, the pain at seeing Connie, the fear that he wouldn’t be able to change things and that he would simply be relegated to watching everyone die around him again, along with every doubting, scared thought that he had.

He doesn’t know how long he was sitting there, frozen with his fingers tangled in his hair. His thoughts were more images than anything structured and coherent, nothing was making sense. A knock at his door startled him out of his reverie.

Wash let his fingers drop from his hair, staring blankly at the door for a moment. Who the hell even knew he had come here? And why were they looking for him in the first place?

He pushed to his feet, moving the short distance to the door with a soft sigh, quickly piecing himself back together so he could face someone and opened the door with a press of the access button. He was in no way near ready for who was waiting there for him.

“There you are,” North’s smile was hidden behind the his helmet but it was clearly present in his voice. Wash’s heart felt like it had stopped in chest. “Been looking everywhere for you.”

“I… North.” Wash couldn’t have stopped the smile he felt on his lips even if he wanted to. “...H-Hi.”

“Yeah, hi.’ North laughed, shaking his head as he slipped past Wash into the room with a simple familiarity, long fingers catching on a light switch as he went. “Kind of an understated greeting but I’ll take it.” North unlocked his helmet and slipped it off with ease, setting it on top of Wash’s standard issue dresser. He smiled over at the Wash, running a hand through his hair. He was every bit as handsome as Wash remembered. It took his breath away in all honesty.

“What uh… what are you doing here?” Wash felt like wincing for for weak he sounded just then but really, he couldn’t manage to fucking care at the moment.

“I need a reason to come see you now?” North’s arched eyebrow held more fondness than anything else. “I heard you had a rough mission, ran into a stunned looking CT and thought I’d try to hunt you down and see if you were okay.” Wash swallowed dryly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears that he felt itching at his eyes. He refused to break down like this, absolutely refused to let his emotions ruin this. He didn’t know what to say, literally couldn’t find words. So instead of trying, he took action.

He didn’t think twice before moving forward and leaning up to pull the taller blonde into a searing kiss. It was as easy as breathing for one of his hands to curl around the back of North’s neck, to press as close to him as their armor would allow. North was smiling into the kiss, his hands easily falling into place at Wash’s waist and it took a moment for it to hit the younger freelancer that this wasn’t a moment with a capital M for North. For him it was just another kiss, albeit a surprising one probably, but still. The thought alone made Wash feel weak, lips moving against North’s in a pattern that he’d had no use for for so long.

North was the one to break it moments later, gently, his hands not moving from Wash’s waist. “Well now there’s the hello I was hoping for,” he murmured playfully, pecking Wash’s lips lightly. “Not too sure what brought it about though.”

“I just…” Wash swallowed, fighting with himself as his fingers slipped up to card through North’s hair, the feel of it like satin under his fingertips. “Bad mission. Missed you. I… I really did.” He must let it show that he’s really not quite okay because North does nothing but hold him closer, resting their foreheads together as he held Wash to him.

“I missed you too. Was worried about you. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright.” Wash nosed along his cheek gently, stiffening at the faint scent of copper. He pulled back just enough to really focus in on North’s face, startling himself with the gash that ran along his lover’s cheek. “What happened?!”

“It’s just a cut, I’m okay.” North hushed him gently, soothing at his fray nerves with a simple touch. Wash let himself be pulled over to sit down on the bed again, his body leaning into North’s like it was magnetically pulled. “There was a… problem with our mission.”

“Problem.” Wash repeated, glancing up at him with another small, involuntary smile. “Let me guess. Are you related to the problem?” The laugh that startled out of North’s mouth was probably the best thing Wash had ever heard. He so wanted to settle into this moment and never leave. The only thing that would make it more perfect would be if York was here as well.

“I might be.” North allowed, pressing his lips to Wash’s temple fondly. He sighed softly before continuing. “Things got a little heavy and I had to use the shield. Drained me a bit more than I expected.” Wash did nothing but hold him closer. The words _“But what about Theta…?”_ were almost at the tip of his tongue, and he caught himself when he realized that that name would mean nothing to North for a while yet.

“You could have died.” He muttered instead.

Again. The word he wouldn’t, couldn’t say. Again. You could have died again. To even think about losing him again so soon was enough to shoot ice through Wash’s veins. North, the ever wonderful North didn’t respond hotly as most anyone else would. He sighed softly and ran a hand down the sleek line of Wash’s armor plating.

“I know.”

“... But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” There was a beat of silence. Wash turned as much as he could in their position and leaned up to steal another kiss. This one was soft and careful. North returned it just the same.

“Okay.” Wash whispered against his lips. There was so much he wanted to say, so much time to make up for that hadn’t actually passed. Not really anyway. With everything hanging over his head and knotted in his stomach the way it was, he was more than content to just sit here in North’s arms, reveling in how none of his memories had done the feeling justice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So one of these days the chapters are going to be more than just following the PFL story line with changed exposition. But anyway, thank you again all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

“So are you going to tell me what really happened?” North asked, after staying quiet for the longest time. Wash glanced up at him, arching one eyebrow in silent question. “Don’t give me that look,” He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Wash’s temple. “Come on, I know you. You’re never usually this quiet. Or this quick to let something about breaking protocol slide without so much as a single comment.”

North was teasing, he knew, but still Wash couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him. Had he really been so bad before? “Nothing happened, really.” He pulled back from the hug a bit, turning to face North on the bed instead.“I just…”

“Just what?” North’s voice was gentle again, eyes soft and clear with warm concern.

“Just had a bit of a shock, that’s all. Got knocked around, you know how it is.” Wash tried to shrug it off, pulling a washed out and tired little smile. “And I got into a fight with Connie,” he admitted, not wanting to hide anything he didn’t have to. This was North of all people, he’d just got him back. There’s no way he was going to waste time and energy skirting around things that he didn’t need to.

“I figured, from how shook up she looked when I saw her. What happened?”

“Leaderboard drama.” Wash sighed, running his hand through his hair. North’s smile turned sympathetic.

“South’s pretty pissed too.” North leaned back on the mattress, propping himself up on his hands.

“I saw that your names swapped places.” It was North's turn to sigh.

"Yeah she threw a bit of a fit." He shook his head, leaning his head back to look up at Wash’s bland ceiling. “Stormed off bitching about Carolina coming in to help us and tried to get involved with the training sim for the new recruit.”

“What?” Wash looked to him, straightening up a bit. _New recruit?_

“Director brought in someone new. Heard a couple of cadets talking about going to watch when I was looking for you.” North let his head loll over to meet Wash’s gaze. “Don’t know if South got her way, but from what I heard it was already set to be three on one. York, Wyoming and Maine of all people.”

A chill ran down Wash’s spine as it actually hit him what was happening. Three on one, training sim. The grenade, York’s accident... _Tex_. “York’s fighting?” He was somehow managing to hide the absolute panic that was washing over him in never ceasing waves. “We should probably go take a look then. If we don’t we’ll never hear the end of it.”

North laughed easily, oblivious to how tension had seized and settled in Wash’s shoulders and the line of his spine.“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He pushed himself to his feet, stretching his back before offering a hand to Wash to help him up. “Should be interesting to watch anyway. Even though I’m sure it won’t be a surprise as to who’ll win.”

Wash flashed him a short smile, taking the offered hand and getting stiffly to his feet, quickly moving to grab his helmet from where it had landed at the end of his bed. He was quick to snap it on so he could stop pretending for a moment that he was okay. His mind was racing, remembering.

_The fight had been honestly the one of most impressive things he’d seen from anyone out of Project Freelancer. To see the three of them, all seasoned and experienced fighters, go up against her like this and watch as she just completely dominated, was absolutely mindblowing. Wash knew Carolina was prowling behind them, eyes zeroed in on the soldier in black, on Texas, with a startling sort of intensity._

_North was at his side, and Wash knew he too was tracing over York’s involvement with the proceedings just as much as he was. It wasn’t often they had a chance to see York floored like this. They needed to get their amusement out of the way now before the whole thing finished and they’d be left to deal with a pouting boyfriend, and a bruised ego that needed soothing._

_And then suddenly there were live rounds out on the training room floor, and there wasn’t anything funny about that._

_Wash was aware he was speaking without really knowing what he was saying, spluttering his confusion and concern that he knew they all shared, but no one was moving to do anything._

_Connie was bitter, Carolina was tensed up, angry, and North seemed to be just about as stuck as him._

_Texas dodged them all, actively stopping and hindering York as he tried to help her against the two, throwing him back and letting him take the brunt of a hit Maine had barreled toward her. None of them could have anticipated it as Maine threw that grenade and it landed next to York._

_The explosion would have drowned out his cries of panic if Wash had been able to find his voice._

“You sure you’re okay, Wash?” North’s voice brought him back, grounding him away from his memories that hadn’t happened yet. “We don’t have to go watch. York can deal.” Wash turned around, straightening up and tried to be reassuring.

“No don’t worry. I’m just… tired.” He gave a little shrug of his shoulders and moved forward, reaching to give North’s hand a gentle squeeze. He was glad the taller blond had already put his helmet back on as well, not sure if he’d be able to keep up his shaky front when confronted with the waves of warm concern he knew North was directing at him head on. He knew how to lie of course, he’d spent years honing it after the project had fallen apart after all, but he didn’t know if he could lie to North in the face of the genuine concern his lover would show. He certainly didn’t want to. “Come on, we’ve probably missed enough.”

North gave his hand a squeeze in return, dropping it a moment later as he opened the door. Wash followed him out, walking close to North as they moved down the halls toward the training area. Every bone in his body was saying to run, to get moving as fast as he could so he could do something, anything to get there to try and stop that grenade from going off next to York.

North, bless him, knew that something was off and he didn’t make an attempt to breach the silence between them. He nudged Wash gently with his shoulder, setting their pace a bit quicker. He must have thought Wash was just still shaken from his earlier mission. Wash wasn’t about to correct him, ready to take the little things where he could.

He couldn’t remember what York looked like without the scar marring his handsome face, with out the blind, blank eye that he knew the brunette hated. He knew how much York hated his disability, how much pain it caused him, both physically and mentally. Wash bit his lip as they came closer to the training rooms. God, if he could prevent that all from happening it would be just...

“What fuck are they doing with live rounds?!”

South’s voice carrying up the hall sent ice through his veins again.

_...Too late._

North stopped dead in his tracks in the hall, clearly trying to process that shout, but Wash barreled on, nearly sprinting into the observation room above the training arena. The gunshots from below sounded clearly through the air, cutting through the tension that had quickly filled the space.

He didn’t let himself focus on what exactly seeing that familiar shade of aqua did to him, of seeing Carolina here after she’d abandoned him and the Blood Gulch crew togo chase ghosts in that fucking canyon, or the hot sting that seeing South again rammed through him. He moved right to the window, right next to Connie, though he didn’t even glance her way, his gaze zeroing in on the familiar tan of York’s armor below, trying to help out Texas in her as bullets actively tore through the air.

“What’s going on?” North demanded, his voice low and just on the brink of almost harsh.

“New recruit’s been kicking their asses,” South supplied, turning away from the window to look over at her twin. “She’s won every round and it looks like Maine and Wyoming were fucking tired of it.”

“York doesn’t have any ammo.” Wash said, more for North’s sake than anything, ignoring South’s scoff and her muttered comment about how of course Mr.number two wouldn’t be that interesting. He really wanted to fucking punch her and wow, okay that was some hostility he didn’t know he’d still had.

He forced that troubling little piece of information away and focused in on the fight below that was absolutely destroying the training arena. Pieces of the pillars were flying with every bullet that hit them. Texas moved as fluidly as water between them, dodging every shot and getting in clean hits of her own with the globs of paint. York weaved in and out of remaining pillars, trying to get around Maine and Wyoming, trying to get to her so he could attempt to help. It wasn’t going well.

“Why haven’t you stopped them?” North asked, what little Wash could see of his purple armor from the corner of his eye whipping to face Carolina. She had her arms crossed tight over her chest.

“We can’t stop a training sim mid-run.” Her voice ran like alcohol over an open wound. Wash tried to force himself to remember that this Carolina hadn’t left him, that this was still the Carolina that would do anything for her team, to take care of them and make sure they were okay.

 _It’s still the Carolina who’s craving Daddy’s approval_ , A nasty little voice at the back of his mind reminded him. _It’s still the Carolina who’s going to let you all fall to the wayside because of Texas. She will abandon you again, just fucking wait._

“We have to do something! Someone’s going to get hurt,” North was angry and concerned and it was only then Wash looked away from the window, away from the sight of Wyoming getting hit by the lock-down paint and Maine charging forward. He knew what would happen next, he didn’t need to watch it play out in his head.

“We need to stop it.” Wash walked toward North, not carrying who was paying attention as he reached for his lover’s hand. “Come on.” North didn’t hesitate to squeeze his hand or follow him as he started over toward the lift that would bring them to the training floor so they could override the system.

“You can’t stop it,” Carolina said, her voice bristling as she moved toward them, clearly planning on stopping them. “You know the rules. When the sim is activated--” an explosion from below cut her off abruptly.

Wash felt his stomach twist. _No!_

“Fuck!” South lurched back from the window, her hands coming up as though to cover her mouth in surprise. Connie twisted away from the window without a word and North was pulling on Wash’s hand with a curse of his own to get them down to the fucking training floor as fast as possible.

Wash let himself be pulled, too caught up in how he’d let it fucking happen all over again to move of his own accord. How could he have let this happen? He’d been here, he’d known the facts, he should have prevented it. He dropped North’s hand as they barreled onto the floor, heart stuttering in his chest at the sight of York sprawled on the floor, covered in lock down paint, his helmet visor shattered. North cursed under his breath next to him.

Carolina had called the medics, same as before. The alarms blared loudly through the training room, echoing off the walls loudly. She was hot on their heels, barreling past them to kneel next to York, calling his name and trying to get a response. York was so still. Wash swallowed back bile on his tongue as his mind supplied images of the last time he’d seen York look so still, lying in a pool of his own blood, dead.

 _No. No, absolutely fucking not. Not even attempting to deal with that. York was fine. He survives this, remember, he’s fine_. Wash couldn’t look away, couldn’t shake the horrifying memory, and his eyes burned. Medics swarmed around York and that helped some to remind him of what was happening, that he’d be alright.

“North…” He muttered, voice riding on a whisper as they all stepped back, save for Carolina, to make room. North’s hand curled around his waist in response, pulling him as close as they both allowed at the moment. Wash swore he could feel the steady pressure of North’s fingers through the armor. South walked up next to them, her eyes on Tex across the arena, being tended to by medics, who she was trying to throw off.

“I can’t believe she fucking sacrificed him like that.” She shook her head, crossing her arms. Wash swallowed back the remark that bubbled to his tongue about sacrificing someone and forced out a different response, in a tone that sounded far too raw for him to actively even recognize his own voice.

“Lock-down paint hardens armor,” he leaned into North, glancing up at him. “She probably saved his life…” The words felt strange on his lips, quoted from directly from how he remembered this the first time. North made a soft noise in agreement, his body stiff.

“Quick thinking…” His free hand was clenched tight into a fist. Wash knew he wanted to be the one to kneel down and check on North, that they both did, but they couldn’t. Carolina stood back from York’s prone form, turning to them to presumably say something, only to be cut off swiftly by the arrival of the Director on the scene. They all fell quickly in line, North stepping away from Wash reluctantly, as he stormed toward them.

“Everybody stand down!” He demanded, lips twisted in a snarl as he stalked toward them. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves. I expect you to act as a team.” He walked down the line, eyes judging them sharply. He didn’t even spare a glance down at York as the medics prepared to move him. Wash swallowed back his panic for York and focused instead on his anger.

He remembered from his half hazy memories what Connie had once said about this whole mess. Someone had let the live rounds out on the training floor. Someone had allowed this to happen. Not once, but now twice. _Fuck this shit._

Last time he’d spouted off something that covered his confusion about how the whole thing had happened, about broken regulations and nonsense. This time he knew what happened, why, and he knew who’s fault it was. And he knew exactly the right way to respond. “As a team, we were concerned when the grenade went off,” He tried to keep his voice as bland as possible tacking on a brief, “Sir,” as an afterthought.

Carolina’s helmet whipped to look at him. He ignored her, paying attention to only the Director as the man stopped in front of him. There was a tense few moments where the Director just stared at him, hands tight behind his back as they always were.

Wash didn’t know if he expected him to say anything, to reprimand him or what, but silence was not what he expected. But it’s what he got, because after a few tense moments where the only sound was of the medic team moving around the Director simply turned on his heel and walked back out.

“You are all dismissed. The training room will be cleared within five minutes and you will all get back to work.” He walked out without a single glance back at any of them, leaving tension in his wake.

“He didn’t say a fucking word about Maine or Wyoming,” South had the smarts to wait until the Director had left completely before speaking. She glanced over to where Maine was gruffly shoving off medics and where Wyoming was still partially frozen under a layer of paint. Tex was storming her way out, actively avoiding them all.

“Why would he?” Connie spoke up for the first time, the derision clear in her voice. “Wasn’t like he was exactly surprised with the ammo suddenly appearing, was he?” Carolina spun to face her sharply.

“Watch your mouth, Connecticut.” Her tone was like knives. Wash rolled his eyes from inside his helmet moving around her to stand next to North again. “I don’t like your tone.”

“Guys, come on,” North tried to intervene, sounding too strained and tired to even have them notice him. He turned just ever so slightly to watch as the medics carried York out to the infirmary. Only South seemed to acknowledge that he’d spoke, her head tilted in concern toward her brother. Wash just stayed silent, listening, feeling hollow.

“That’s what you don’t like about this?” Connie scoffed at her, her hands settling on her hips in a challenge. “After what we just saw, the thing you have problems with my tone? Wow, way to have your priorities set.”

“Do you have something you need to say to me?” Carolina asked, stepping toward Connie, with steel in her voice.

“I have plenty of things to say, and if my tone is what’s pissing you off, I can guarentee you won’t like what’s on my mind.” And that was it. The blatant disdain in Connie’s tone directed toward Carolina was the last thing Wash was able to take.

This was not the team, the family he remembered. Wash holds no delusions, he knows that there had always been tension and competitiveness among them, that they all had issues that made it hard to really be a cohesive unit, but he knows that they all cared about one another to an extent. Whether it was the way he adored and loved North and York with all his heart or down to the simplest form of gruff affection exchanged between him and Maine on any given day, they were a family. But there was none of that here. And he couldn’t take it.

“Would you two shut the fuck up?” He shouted abruptly, taking them all off guard. “The last thing we should be doing is arguing with each other! Both of your priorities are fucked up if this is what you want to do instead of worry about what fucking happened! And don’t start Connie because you and I both know why you’re doing and York is only a small part of it, so don’t!” He was shaking in his armor, angry like he hadn’t been in a long time.

“Wash.” North’s voice was soft, just for him, and their hands caught together as easy as breathing. “Come on. Don’t bother, they’re just upset.” It was more than that, the start of the very things that Wash knew would tear them apart but he couldn’t say anything because they would think he was paranoid and crazy and he wasn’t. But that didn’t matter, because he couldn’t say anything, so he just sighed and nodded.

“Can we just... go? Can we try and see him?” He was just as quiet. North nodded, squeezing his hand with a whispered agreement. He could feel their eyes on them. He didn’t blame them. The Wash they knew didn’t yell out of anger. He yelled in the field when he was panicked or confused but never at anyone else, and certainly not Carolina. She’s the boss, the leader. But their Wash had been through this already. He’d survived the project and everything that had been thrown at him, survived the years after, and he became a leader himself. He was never going to be able to follow her blindly again.

All in all that was probably for the best.

North pulled on his hand and Wash followed him without a single word, their hands dropping from each other, but they didn’t put distance between them. Wash knew that North wanted nothing more than to hold him close and Wash wanted it too, but they couldn’t do that here.

“I don’t know what made you say it,” North murmured to him as they walked, leaving the three women behind without a second thought, steering them down a side corridor that would lead to the infirmary. “But I’m glad you did.”

Wash couldn’t help but laugh at that, a weak, strangled little thing, that sounded a bit like he was crying. It was the closest he was going to allow himself to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr!
> 
> http://sights-sounds-and-rain.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time really breaking away from the shown storyline of PFL. And first time really with York. I spent a lot of time really working out the characters and the plot over the last few days. It's really going to start to pick up speed now. Hopefully. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

A hospital bunk is not what Wash would deem the ideal space to see York again for the first time. But then again, when has anything about the timing of events in his life been exactly ideal?

As it was he and North were just lucky the medics were letting them hang around. York’s injury had apparently been easy to take care off, at least that’s what they’d been left to assume by how quickly they had been allowed into the infirmary to see him, and by how they'd been left alone since. But they both knew he was still under careful watch.

They’d removed his armor completely, leaving York looking merely as though he was asleep in the bed. If it wasn’t for the heavy amount of gauze wrapped around one of his eyes, Wash might have actually been able to believe it.

But he wasn’t sleeping. He was unconscious, from taking a grenade blast to the fucking face and having his visor splinter into his skin. Wash felt weak even just thinking about it. Which was ridiculous, he knew, because he knows that York recovers from this, spectacularly actually. But that didn’t make seeing him lying there any easier.

North certainly didn’t seem to be coping with it well.

The older freelancer had barely moved since they’d pulled up chairs beside York’s bedside hours ago. He had his fingers steepled over his helmet in his lap, blue eyes heavy with concern. Wash knew there was nothing he could say to try and soothe North, not really. It was in North's nature to worry about those he cared for, and this was definitely a worrying situation. Wash wished he could do more than just reassure him that York would be fine, but he couldn’t figure out a way to explain how he knew definitively that York would lose use of his eye but be ultimately okay, when the medics themselves had no idea of that just yet.

Sitting in silence was doing neither of them any good. The longer Wash was left to stew in his thoughts, the more bitterness and guilt burned deep into his bones. He should have been able to stop this, to save York from this pain, to save North the worrying, he should have done something, anything. But he didn’t.

“I feel so ridiculous.” Wash looked up from the intense staring he’d been doing at the edge of York’s bed, turning to look at North instead. He hadn’t expected his lover to speak so suddenly, with a voice so soft and careful. North looked to him, his lips twitching into a weak smile. “I mean, I should be happy he’s okay, as okay as they’re telling us he is, but I…” His voice trailed off uncertainly, teeth catching on his lower lip.

Wash didn’t like seeing him so uncertain. He reached out to take North’s hand, wanting nothing more than to be out of all of their armor so he could trace North’s skin with the pads of his fingertips. “But what?”

“But I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” North’s eyes were drawn back to York. He seemed to watch the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing for a moment before continuing. “About how Texas probably saved his life. That he could have died from that blast…”

“North…” Wash swallowed dryly at the mere thought of things playing out differently.

“Now don’t get me wrong,” He barreled right on, as though he hadn’t even heard Wash speak. “I’m not about to sit here and blame her for knocking him back down and hitting him with the paint. It was all she could really do, and I’m so grateful she did it, and I know you are too Wash. But the fact that there was a grenade on the training floor at all… It doesn't sit right with me.”

“What do mean?” Wash watched him carefully, not wanting to miss anything that he might give away. North sighed heavily, his eyes on the bandage that contrasted so starkly with York’s skin.

“It’s ridiculous, it’s so stupid, I know but… What Connie said makes some sense.” North turned to look back to him, brow furrowed deeply. “The Director he… He was more upset that we intervened than the fact that York was hurt or that protocol broke and live rounds were out on the floor. It’s… it’s not right.”

Wash bit his lip, closing his eyes for a moment, thankful he’d still had his helmet on for the sake of having a moment to compose himself. God it was going to be so fucking hard to constantly keep up a charade like this. 

“It’s… it’s definitely off.” Wash agreed with him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. “I don’t know what to think though.” _Liar. Dirty fucking liar_. Wash hated himself, hated this, and hated that he couldn't do anything else. He wanted to scream from the rooftops that he knew what the Director was doing, what he was going to do. But he had no proof, no evidence and without that there was nothing for him to do without anyone he told thinking he was insane and certifying him Article 12, just like with Epsilon.

It forever seemed like he would always have the information he needed to help and no way of making anyone understand.

“I know,” North’s tone was soothing again, his smile a warm comfort. “It’s stupid, like I said. I’m just over-thinking everything because I’m worried.” He sighed, running his free hand through his short hair. “I wonder when he’s going to wake up.”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Wash leaned back in his chair, so tired. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days. Which, technically was true. He’d only been “back” here for just about a day. The last time he had slept was when he was still held captive by Locus. He’d been sick, one of his injuries from an interrogation session had gotten infected and Donut had spent so much time trying to get him to stay awake while Sarge distracted the guards. They had both been afraid if he slept he wouldn’t wake back up.

Thinking about them sent an ache through his chest, and only brought up more thoughts of the others. He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched quietly when he thought about Tucker and Caboose, his team, his boys that he left behind when they needed him and fuck it all if he didn’t miss those crazy sim troopers more than he knew what to do with.

“Wash?” Again, North’s voice grounded him, reminded him where he was, what his present moment in time was. The Reds and Blues weren’t in danger, not yet, maybe never would be. He had to focus on here and now. Wash took a deep breath, steadying himself before facing North’s concerned gaze.

“I’m okay, “ he reassured, and he actually almost believed himself that time. “I promise, I’m fine. It’s just been a really long day.” North chuckled at that, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, I feel you there.” North sighed again, glancing up to check the time on the clock above the version of the leaderboard that was posted in here as well. The soft groan that passed his lips was enough to draw Wash’s attention. He blinked in surprise at the time, blinking a harsh 0200 at them.

“Have we really been in here all night?” Wash shook his head, pulling his hand out of North’s to reach up and take off his helmet. He rubbed at his tired eyes with a sigh. “God… we’ve got training in a few hours. That’ll be fun.”

“We should probably get some rest…” North bit his lip, his hands returning to their position in his lap, looking back to York. There was absolutely no change, not even the slightest movement. Wash leaned back in his chair, letting his own hands fall uselessly to his lap.

“Yeah, probably.” They both knew they weren’t going anywhere. He lets his head loll to the side to look at North, smiling a bit in spite of himself at the way the fluorescent lighting from the overheads was seeming to hit the older blond in all the right ways, softly highlighting the arch of his cheekbones and the full pout of his lips. Wash knew that he was either just that tired or North was just that beautiful. He had a strong suspicion it was simply the latter.

North looked to him, catching the soft smile that Wash had on his lips, and returned it with a smile of his own. “What?”

“Nothing.” Wash shook his head, still smiling. For all that he was still so unsure of how to fully handle being here and he had no idea how he was to stop the Director and the shitshow that he’d bring in his wake, he was so happy at the same time. How could he not be? “Can’t I just look at you and be happy?”

“What?” North laughed, turning to face him, that small quiet smile breaking out into something bright and beautiful. Wash felt stomach swoop at the mere sight of it. “Where did that even come from?”

“Nowhere, shut up.” His laughter was like music and Wash couldn’t help but join him. He was smiling wider than he had in years. North’s eyes had gone soft and tender, and Wash could feel his heart skipping beats all the over the place.

“You’re ridiculous,” North shook his head at him, still laughing. After a moment he seemed to settle again, eyes twinkling brightly. Wash arched an eyebrow as North pushed to his feet, setting his helmet aside on the small end table that bracketed York’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Wash asked, turning in his chair to let his gaze follow North as the older freelancer walked over to the double doors that served as the entrance to the infirmary. North just flashed him a grin, ducking his head out into the hall for a moment before turning around and walked right back over to where Wash was still sitting.

“Just wanted to see if we were actually alone,” North mused, his tone verging on playful. Wash let his teeth catch on his lower lip, but it did nothing to restrain his smile. He had no idea why it was so easy to go from so worried and and upset to just simply happy. He wasn’t going to question it though. Not when North was leaning down now with a soft smile to kiss him.

Wash couldn’t help the way he immediately melted into the kiss, his eyes slipping closed with a soft little sigh. It was different than the one he had sprung on his lover earlier, softer, warmer. It was so nice. Wash let one of his hands come up slide into North’s hair, his thumb tracing over the line of North’s jaw as he pulled him closer.

North smiled into the kiss, not enough to break it, but enough that Wash could feel his mouth tilt up against his own. There was nothing pressing about this, no urgency, not need or haste. The pace moved languidly, nothing faltering as North moved to deepen the kiss with a swipe of his tongue, kneeling down next to Wash’s chair to bring them closer.

It was easy as breathing to remember this, to remember the spot behind North’s ear that made the older man shiver when he traced his thumb over it, timing the movement with a gentle bite to that full lower lip, to remember that North liked to cup his face with both hands, holding them steady so they could get as lost in each other as they wanted. His kisses tasted as sweet as they felt, something like honey that settled slow and warm into all the cracks Wash knew he had riddled throughout his heart, soul, and mind.

Wash was almost glad he had pushed the memories of this away, because  he was damn sure they wouldn’t have measured up to this moment right now. Wash eventually broke the kiss with a breathless sort of sigh, after seconds, minutes, hours, who even really cared, leaning into North’s hands.

“I love you,” he whispered, opening his eyes just in time to catch that damn sparkle in North’s eyes again. The words tasted like heaven on his tongue, falling into the silence between them like it was just that simple.

And apparently it was because North was tracing one gloved finger over the curve of Wash’s cheek, smiling warmly at him, lips catching a quick peck not long after his fingers left his skin. “I love you too. Always, Wash.” He chuckled softly, the noise soothing Wash’s frayed nerves like nothing else could. “Same for the idiot in the bed too.”

“Hey! That idiot is offended, thank you very much.”

It took a moment for it to sink in that that playful tone belonged to neither of them.

Wash whipped around, warm relief breaking like waves on a beach over him. York was sitting up in bed, smirking at them, his arms, bruised like all hell, crossed and settled comfortably over his chest. “York!”

He was alive and vibrant, even as battered and tired looking as he was stuck in that bed . Everything about him screamed that same old confidence and sure cockiness tempered with a smart mouth that would taste the way cedar smelled if Wash remembered right (and he did, he knows he did, could never forget even though he tried) and a steadiness that was as hard as the stubborn iron that surely ran in his veins and Wash felt again like he was about to start crying. He wanted to leap forward and kiss the smirk off York’s stupid face but he really couldn’t find it in himself to move.

“Remembered me, now have you?” York teased, his one visible eye glinting in the light of the room. North shook his head with a smile and a laugh that rang with relief. His hand caught on Wash’s gently, tugging him over toward the bed, walking around to stand on York’s good side.

“Like we could ever forget you, York.” North’s voice was fond, of course it was, and he was just short of grinning now, though it was tainted with thick waves of concern. Wash swallowed back the guilt that had been sitting sour in mouth, threatening to taint North’s sweet kisses. York was okay.

“You seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it.” York grinned at them, looking between the two, moving more carefully than he normally would have, cautious of the bandages that very nearly dominated his face. “I mean here I am, waking up in the infirmary thinking I’m about to be greeted by my boys, teary eyed over my recovery and instead I find you making out over my sickbed, calling me names. I feel neglected, betrayed. I am _hurt,_ North.”

“Why am I not surprised that this is what you choose to focus on.” North rolled his eyes, dropping Wash’s hand in favor of crossing his arms over his chest. “Not what happened or how you’re feeling or anything like that.” Almost as soon as he had settled into the stance of crossing his arms, he dropped it, one hand reaching for York’s on the bed, his tone falling to a more gentle, serious one. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could go for another round or two on the floor,” York grinned up at North, flipping his hand under the blond’s and twining their fingers together as best he could. Wash let his gaze zero in on that, York’s unarmored hand laced securely with North’s gloved one.

“York.” North’s quiet reprimand was enough to make York drop the pretense he was trying to put up. He sighed, leaning back against the raised incline of the bed.

“I’m okay. I’m pretty numbed out right now, to be honest.” He shrugged one shoulder, reaching up to let the fingers of his free hand skirt around the edges of his bandages. His hand was shaking, just barely enough for Wash to catch it. “What’s the damage?”

“We don’t know.” North gave his fingers a squeeze. “The medics were waiting for you to wake up so they could test a few things. Not much they could do with you knocked out.” _Blind in one eye. Damaged depth perception. Angry red scars that splintered like spiderweb cracks in glass across smooth skin._ Wash swallowed again, feeling as though he was choking on his own tongue for all he couldn’t speak right now.

“No point in worrying over it ‘till they figure it out.” York drew his fingers away from the bandaging, choosing to run it through his hair instead. The movement causes him to flinch a bit, for what reason Wash doesn’t know, but he’s stepping forward all the same with a small frown, still fighting his vocal chords to work so he could say something, anything.

York notices him then, with a small smile and a tilt of his head. “You’ve been quiet. What’s the word, Wash?”

Wash swallowed dryly, and maybe it's the bandage that's throwing him off. For so long he'd seen the scars, had long equated them with York. They were the marks York hated but had made his own. York arched an eyebrow at the continued silence, and North looked over with a concerned frown again.

Wash bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to shake himself out of whatever was strangling his voice. They didn't need to worry about him, not when York was the one hurt. He cleared his throat, forcing a small little smile. He wanted to make a joke, to try and keep things easy as they'd always been. He wasn't prepared for the broken little imitation of his voice letting a quiet "You're okay..." past his lips.

The speed at which the smile on York's face shifted  from teasing to something warmer would have been startling to anyone that didn't know the man as well as North and Wash did. He pulled away from North's hand, right as North himself moved closer to Wash, a reaching out to slide a hand across the patch of space between armor plating on Wash's back where it was just the undersuit.

"Yeah Wash. I'm okay." York reached out toward Wash, pulling him close as soon as he had a grip on his hand. "Come here." Wash didn't fight as York tugged him down and slipped his arms around his neck. Wash let his eyes slide shut tight and he tried not to fall apart.

"We're all okay," North murmured, lips just brushing the shell of Wash’s ear, his hand warm on his back. York pressed a kiss to Wash's cheek. Wash wanted to hug him back as tight as he could, to wrap his arms around him and just lose himself the embrace but he couldn’t.

“Fucking power armor. Getting in the way...” Wash muttered into the crook of York’s neck dejectedly, his hands curling carefully in the fabric of York’s t-shirt. The low burst of laughter in his ear is enough to ease the tension from his body. It’s warm and familiar, bringing an echo of memories skirting through Wash’s mind.

York pulled back from the hug, his hands moving from Wash’s shoulders to slide up until they hooked loosely around his neck. Rough fingers slip under the lip of the bodysuit and Wash could only smile as York’s thumb found his pulse.

“We’re okay.” York’s voice is soft, but firm, reinforced by North slipping his hand along Wash’s back to hold securely onto his hip. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. “You hear me? We’re all fine.”

_For now._

Wash pushed away that horrible little voice, the same one that taunted him about Carolina earlier, and he nods, just a small little jerk of his head, but it’s enough. York’s smile widens just a bit, recognizing that Wash is okay (as okay as he can be but they don’t have to know, never will, couldn’t understand even if they did but it’s okay), and he doesn’t hesitate to lean in and steal a kiss.

The kiss starts as nothing more than a simple press of their lips, both of them being cautious with York’s injury. York’s thumb traces along the line of Wash’s jaw and, as to be expected, he is the one to press forward and try to deepen the kiss. Wash wants to let him, more than anything but logic and a squeeze on his hip from North reminds him that York was hurt.

Wash breaks the kiss, a soft laugh surprising it’s way out of him as York whines when he does so. North chuckles low and pulls Wash back before York can try and initiate another kiss. “Easy.” North drops a kiss to Wash’s temple, smiling warmly at them both. York pouted from the bed.

“You both suck.” York crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his bed. "We were just about to have some fun."

“We love you too.” North smirked at him, leaning down to kiss him gently. York softened into the kiss, smiling in spite of himself and Wash couldn’t help but start to laugh softly. It was so ridiculous, how important and reverent this felt for him, how big, and yet it was nothing to them.

Well, not nothing, because they all knew what they meant to each other. But the fact mattered was that they woke up with this, with each other and this happiness. Wash hadn’t even even allowed himself to think of it in years and now it was his reality again. He felt like he drowning in it, and fuck it all he was still laughing.

“Wash…?” York asked slowly, having broken the kiss as Wash’s laughter started to sound a bit hysterical. North twisted to look at him, concern mixing with amusement. “You okay?”

Wash bit down hard on the inside of his cheek again, laughter only subsiding when he could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He smiled, nodding at them both. North shook, his head, sighing as he stood up fully again.

“I think we both need to get to bed.” North slipped his arm back around Wash’s waist, and Wash didn’t hesitate to lean into him. Sleep sounded amazing. Curling up in a bed, no better yet curling up with North, if only for a few hours before they had to get up, sounded like the best thing he had ever heard actually.

“Yeah you two weren’t smart about this,” York laughed, grinning at them as North grabbed their helmet's from their various resting places, and Wash smiled back at him. “You’re gonna get your asses kicked during training tomorrow.” He shook his head fondly. “Go sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Wash nodded along with North, more tired now when actually presented with more than just the thought of sleeping. Mumbled goodnights and quick goodnight kisses were passed around and then Wash was being lead sleepily away from York’s bed to the sound of chuckles from their injured lover. North’s lips too were shaped in a small smile as he pressed another kiss to Wash’s temple.

“Why’re you laughing?” Wash asked, voice barely forming the words coherently anymore. He felt North’s laugh more than he heard it this time. He knew he was being lead to the locker room, to take off the armor and stow it properly. They should shower before changing and going to sleep but Wash was sure he’d end up just falling asleep under the spray.

“No reason. Just happy.” North’s deep, soothing voice was doing little to wake Wash up. Wash nodded in response, because he was happy too. For the first time in a long time he was simply happy. He didn’t allow himself to focus on anything but that for the moment.

He let himself fall completely in North’s care, trusting him, with all his heart and soul, to guide him if they needed to do anything other than the basic motions for changing. North’s hand slid into his at one point and Wash smiled up at him and ignored just about everything else.

It was nice.

He didn’t let himself think about how long it could possibly last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr! 
> 
> http://sights-sounds-and-rain.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

_They were screaming for him._

_It was dark and he felt like he could barely keep his footing as he moved. His heart beat painfully in his chest, and he was aware of blood spilling from cuts he had been sure had long since closed and scarred. He wanted to turn away and hide but he couldn’t, not with the way their voices mixed and changed and echoed around him._

_Wash didn’t know where to look, where to turn in the dark maze he’d found himself in. His chest was tight with panic as he ran down another hallway, only to skid to a stop when he saw yet another dead end. He was so close, he knew it, he just had to keep going and he’d find them, he would he’d--_

_Another scream of pain tore through the air._

_Where are they?!_ _Wash sprinted back up the way he came, turning sharply down a hall he as he swore he could hear Caboose whimpering from just up ahead, followed quickly but a sharp shout that was unmistakably Grif’s._

_“What’s wrong Agent Washington?” Locus’s voice echoed around him, coming from somewhere he couldn’t see. He was taunting him, sick joy clear in his voice as Wash stopped dead at an intersection of paths in the dimly lit halls. From one direction he heard Sarge cursing in pain, the other Tucker. “Having some trouble finding your friends?”_

_Wash tried to ignore him, forcing himself to choose, and ran off toward Tucker’s voice. He was met quickly with another dead end and he couldn’t help the swell of anger in his chest. He threw a punch at the wall before turning around to run back the other way, but the path was now closed off._

_“Now, is that any way for an agent of your caliber to act?” Locus reprimanded him, his voice rising above all the others, even as they all seemed to join together in a horrible symphonic cacophony that tore Wash apart._

_“What do you want?” Wash demanded, not knowing where to look, eyes frantically searching the dark for an escape, and finding none. Locus started to laugh, the sound reverberating off the walls of the boxed in corridor Wash found himself in. The space between each laugh was accented by a scream from one of the reds and blues._

_Tucker, Caboose, their voices mixing into one horrid shout of pain. Just one, the same one over and over again.They were screaming for **him**. For him to help them. He started searching the walls for a weak point, looking for anything that would make it give way so he could get to them, wherever they were._

_“Want? I don’t want anything.” There was nothing but mild amusement to the mercenary- no, the monster’s tone. “I’m just having a bit of fun.” Another bone chilling chuckle. “I really should be thanking you Agent Washington. After all, it’s thanks to you I have my new playthings. It was only after you left them I was able to make my move and take hold.”_

_NO. No he was lying. Locus was lying, he had to be. This… this wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be his fault, not again. He couldn’t be the reason they were in danger and hurting, no. No no no no no..._

Wash shot up in bed, gasping for breath and heart racing. It took a moment to process where he was and what was happening because he needed to find them needed to go and help and…

He was in bed, in what he recognized as North’s room aboard the Mother of Invention. He wasn’t with the Reds and Blues, and they weren’t with Locus. Not yet. Wash closed his eyes tightly and tried to wrangle his breathing under control.

Wash had woken up from nightmares enough in his life that he knew what he needed to do to overcome them. Deep, steady breaths and confirmed truths. _I am not with Locus._ True. _I am not being tortured, and neither are my friends._ Also true. _I am lying in bed with North_. ...Surprisingly true.

The last truth was actually the easiest to believe. He hadn’t allowed himself to dream or think of North or York in years.

His heart was starting to return to it’s normal pattern, steadying out even as his thoughts continued to race. His eyes flickered to the wall where the time was displayed, lit up with the familiar holographic blue that haunted Wash’s memories. He’d been asleep just a little under two hours. Perfect. Wash shook his head, as though he could clear his mind like that and sighed lowly, carding fingers through his hair.

Nightmares. Great. Just one more thing to add to the fucking list.

“Wash?” North’s voice was laden heavy with sleep, but the warm hand that reached out to touch Wash’s shoulder was steady and sure, and it was enough to break him from his thoughts. Wash relaxed just a fraction at his lover’s touch, It wasn’t much, but it just enough to feel his muscles start to unlock.

“Sorry,” Wash muttered, taking a deep breath and twisting to look at North, still lying down in the tangled sheets. He smiled at his sleepy lover while North blinked blearily at him. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You okay?” North pushed himself up to lean on his elbows. Even half asleep he just seemed to exude warmth and concern and Wash swayed on the bed to lean into it. North leaned over to press a kiss to Wash’s bare shoulder. There was a faint scar there, minor and pale, but raised just enough that when North's lips touched it Wash couldn’t help but shiver.

“I’m fine,” Wash muttered, breath hitching slightly as North’s lips traveled easily from his shoulder, tracing a path up his neck, lingering just below his ear. “Just a dream.”

“Dreams don’t make you shoot up like that.” North observed softly, shifting closer to him, one hand sliding up his back. “Not good ones anyway.” 

Wash nodded in agreement, leaning into the soft, gentle touches. It probably wasn’t good how easily he was distracted by this. “But it’s over. I’m okay.” North just kissed the shell of his ear lightly in response before tapping on the base of Wash’s spine, easily capturing his lover’s attention. Wash turned to face him, smiling as North leaned in to kiss him softly.

“Just checking.” North muttered against his lips before pressing closer with a low heat that Wash sunk into easily. North’s hands were steady against his skin, fingers tracing little circles up along his rib cage. Wash shivers just slightly and he wants to press closer, to lay down with North and let those fingers map out against his skin and let heat wash up over them.

But he couldn't.

He broke the kiss with a soft sigh, smiling as North’s eyes fluttered open. “We gotta get up soon.” Wash whispered, pulling back from those hands and that comfort, letting clarity seep gently back into his mind.

“Not yet, though.” North mutters back, and Wash has to laugh. For all that North was the calm, responsible one (or at least he had been the last time, when Wash was young and foolish but that was all different now), it was almost too easy to get him to lose himself like this.

“Don’t tempt me to stay.” Wash chuckled as he leaned in to kiss him once more, barely anything more than a simple press of their lips, warm and intimate and oh so sweet, before pulling away and forcing himself to stand. "I need to go before everyone else gets up. You know that." He hated to leave the warmth of the bed and North’s comfort, but he needed time to himself to think. He’d been here for all of a day and he had yet to actually process what this would all mean, what he had the opportunity to do.

North groaned softly, falling back onto the bed, arm coming up to cover over his eyes. Wash glanced at the clock as he reached for a t-shirt, a soft and faded old thing that belonged to North but smelled distinctly of the sharpness of York’s aftershave.

“I hate you when you’re right.” North mumbled, burying his face in a pillow, one eye peaking open playfully to skim down Wash’s bare torso. Wash grinned, swatting at his lover with the t-shirt before pulling it on.

“Hate me all you want, doesn't mean I stop being right.”

North laughed into the pillow, pushing himself up on his elbows and Wash leaned over in an action that had to be more muscle memory than anything and kissed him one last time. “I don't want you to go...” North muttered, smile soft against Wash’s lips. Wash was helpless to do anything but return it, fingers skimming lightly against North’s skin as he pulled back even if it was the last thing he wanted.

“I'll see you later.” Wash ignored North’s groan this time, shaking his head with a smile as he headed for the door and slipped out into the hall. It was still really early, very few of the agents and crew would actually be up for at least a little while longer. Wash leaned against North’s closed door for a moment, trying to center his thoughts before forcing himself to push off and walk down the empty hallway toward the locker room.

Despite the fact that he was running on so little sleep, Wash felt pretty good. He’d gotten used to functioning on mostly exhaustion driven by determination and necessity over the years and even a brief moment of actual rest had become more than enough for him to manage to function.

Moving down the halls of the MOI again, taking the familiar path down to the locker room was like walking in a dream. Wash was so tempted to just relax into it, to take comfort in what was familiar and let that be enough. He had his friends back, his boys. He was finally home again and… God didn’t he deserve that?

Wash actively slowed down to a near stop as that thought hit him. Could he just let things be? Let the chips fall where they may, get North and York out of the shit and just… run?

The thought tempted him like nothing else. Everything he had was screaming at him to run back to North and convince him to run away, to get York from the infirmary and just _go_.

But… the others.

As much as Wash could think so easily of running to protect North and York, he was frozen by the mere thought of everyone he’d be leaving behind to deal with the mess that would inevitably happen. His friends would still die if they were left here, Connie would leave with the Insurrection, Carolina would fall to the leaderboard, and Maine… Sigma, would probably still take over and the AIs …God. The AIs. Delta, Theta, Epsilon… Alpha.

Alpha was already in danger, whether the torture and the fragmentation process had started or not, and just the thought of the AI having to go through what Wash knew was waiting on the horizon gave him a physical pain shooting through his chest.

He wasn’t crazy, and Epsilon was long gone, even his whispers had stopped years ago, but Wash still felt the Alpha’s phantom remembered pain of splitting apart bit by bit, felt the grief of being told that agents were dying because of him, of failure, of knowing that he had to have been able to stop it all from happening, to stop her from dying again, Oh God _Allison-!_

No. No he couldn’t leave.

Wash took a deep breath, deep enough that he could feel it sinking into his bones and when he let it out he straightened up, settling into the moment. He started walking back down the hall with a new steadiness. He felt more like himself, or rather the person he’d let himself become after Recovery, in the canyon with his team.

The locker room was empty when he walked in, the lighting kept low at half power. He didn’t even pause as he made a move for his locker, the name plate glinting dully in the light. The lock slid open at the combination and Wash had to smile as he opened the door.

His eyes skirted over the the remains of a much younger him, the silly pictures of the cats the Connie teased him about mercilessly, the neatly stacked towels contrasting with the scattered empty energy drink cans, and his skateboard. Wash reached out to pick up the board, running his fingers over the worn griptape. He hadn’t ridden one in years.. wasn’t sure he even remembered how.

Wash sighed, sticking the board back in the lower deck of his locker and grabbed a towel, freezing when the movement allowed him to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror hung up on the inside of the locker door. He watched his own eyes go wide and he quickly moved toward the mirrors that hung above the sinks in the showers to get a better look. His breath caught in his throat when he did and Wash could only stare.

He looked so...  _young._

Wash reached shaking hands up to touch his face, eyes skirting over to places where scars should mark him, cut cleanly through his eyebrow, trace long and thin up along his jaw, but only smooth skin was there. His hair was as blonde as ever, darker as the ends got longer, but he was missing the grey that had prematurely started to streak through. The only lines that creased his face were faint crinkles that framed his eyes, laugh lines instead of trauma caused wrinkles that aged him years past his actual age.

Wash swallowed dryly, his hands moving to pull off the borrowed t-shirt, eyes swiftly moving down to trace over his chest. It was like looking at a blank canvas, the sight a startling change from what he knew he should look like. It was a strange feeling, knowing the exact placement of a scar, having traced over their ropey lines countless time over the years only to see nothing in their place.

That’s not to say that he didn’t already have scars littering his torso, because he did, just a hazard of the job. But there were just so little of them compared to what he was used to. No long angry scar cutting and curving over his shoulder, wrapping down around his rib cage. No burn scars to pattern over chest and arms like patches of freckles. No gunshot wounds long since healed to pepper his skin. He reached up, feeling for the bumpy mess of scar tissue at the back of his neck from where they dug Epsilon out of head, and felt nothing. Wash shut his eyes tight and dropped his hands to grip the edges of the sink, swallowing back the threat of nausea.

Because he could still feel them even when they weren’t there.

He felt every scar, burn, wound, cut. Could feel the way they burned into his skin where they should be and he couldn’t see them, they weren’t there and he looked so fucking young now. As if it never happened.

But it did. And unless he did anything to stop it, it would all happen again.

Wash let that finality settle over him with an icy clarity and he straightened up, his eyes opening to meet his own gaze in the mirror. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but the steely resolve he saw did not match the face those eyes belonged to.

Alright then. Wash rolled his shoulders, clenching his hands into tight fists at his side. Time to get started. He forced himself into a long established routine, quick and efficient. In and out of the shower, and into his undersuit and armor, letting his muscle memory take over as he brought the most important issue to the front of his mind.

What the fuck he was going to do.

He needed information, needed to see exactly what the Director had done so far, what exactly he was planning to do and he needed concrete proof to have on record for when it was all over. There wasn’t going to be a chance for the bastard to run this time, Wash would make sure of it.

The ideal person to work with would have been Connie, he knew she’d already been gathering information on the Alpha and on the Director’s crimes, but he couldn’t trust her. She was working with the Insurrection, and no matter how bad Project Freelancer was, Wash still really fucking hated the Insurrection.

He ran a towel over his hair, drying it quickly as his armor booted up around him, locking more firmly into place and molding to the contours of his body. He settled into the feeling with a soft sigh. No he would need to gather the information on his own. And then he just had to… had to…

What, exactly? He couldn’t tell anyone about all this, there’s no way they’d believe him, not until he actually got his hands on the information, and even if they did, then what? They hadn’t been able to rescue Alpha the last time, the Director still got away with it all for years and never met justice, not true justice.

Carolina had given him an out. Wash knew he wouldn’t be so kind as to do the same.

He threw the towel inside his locker with a short sigh and shut it loudly, the sound echoing in the still empty locker room with a sharp finality. He took a moment to just breathe before slipping his helmet on, locking it into place with the soft clicks of the armor’s seals. It would be different this time, he was going to make sure of that. He would figure something out, had to, it was the only option he had.

It wasn’t hard to leave the locker room and walk straight up the hall. He could hear the ship starting to wake up, freelancers and crew members alike heading into the mess to grab breakfast before suiting up and starting out. The thought of food honestly made Wash’s stomach turn at the moment, so he bypassed that completely.

Instead he headed straight for the training rooms. If he was going to do this then he needed to  train every bit as hard as he’d trained Tucker back in that damn canyon. Harder even, because he knew exactly the kind of fucked up shit he had waiting for him.

It was still fairly early, so the rooms were all currently unoccupied, so he just slipped into the first one he saw and punched in his access code. The screen before him lit up with a whole host of training stats and options.

“Good Morning, Agent Washington."

“Good Morning F.I.L.S.S.” Wash couldn’t help but smile as he greeted her. It had been a long time since he’d heard her voice. It was soothing in a way that surprised him. He scrolled idly through his options, focusing on the firing range scenarios that he was cleared for. “You having a good day so far?” The smile shifted into a satisfied little smirk as he saw the long list he was presented with. It was all too easy to remember that he was one of the lower ranked freelancers after the project had fallen, but it was also incredibly satisfying to know that he was the firearms specialist on the team.

“My day has been quite lovely, thank you.” If she could laugh, he was sure she would have there, as it was there was a small pause that was just perfect for the sound. “I’m surprised to see you  this early, Agent Washington. You don’t usually report for training this far ahead of your scheduled sessions.” She sounded pleasantly surprised with him, as much as she ever could for a smart AI. Wash chuckled softly, selecting a mid level difficulty range test for a mid-range battle rifle.   
  
“I’m trying something new.” There was a hiss as he turned around, a platform rising from the floor, laid out with different caliber rifles and a selection of ammunition. Wash walked over to the table, chose a gun and loaded the ammo into the barrels. “Think you can help me?”

“Of course, Agent Washington.” The platform sunk back into the floor and the door he had entered from slid shut quietly as the targets started to rise from the floor. “Shall I keep the difficulty protocol standard, or would you like that I randomize the process for you?”

“Surprise me.” He rolled out his shoulders, waiting until the the floor settled before he settled the rifle comfortably in his arms. “Don’t hesitate to pull out all the stops, F.I.L.S.S.”

“Training simulation starting in T-minus five,” Wash stepped out onto the floor, trigger finger curling securely into place as he jogged out to the center of the floor. “Four,” sets of pillars rose from the floor in scatter patterns, Wash ducked behind one for cover, pulling up the right programs on his HUD. “Three,” The light in the observation deck turned on, Wash refused to look to see who was watching, choosing to press his back against the pillar. He closed his eyes and just let himself breathe for a moment. “Two.” The whirring of the turret guns started up from above and around him, fully ready to simulate heavy fire. “One.”

He opened his eyes.

**“Begin.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr!
> 
> http://sights-sounds-and-rain.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

“Simulation: Complete.”

Wash tore off his helmet with a grin. He was out of breath, sweat beading at his brow and he knew there would be bruises forming under the plates of his armor even now, but fuck it all if this wasn’t the best he’d felt in the longest time.   
  
It was nice to train without having to worry about tracking the progress of others or designing new ways to try and force training into time he just didn’t have to spare as the unknown threat was pressing in around and them and No Tucker he wasn’t being paranoid just shut up and--  
  
It was… just nice to train.

“How was that, F.I.L.S.S.?” Wash asks, setting the spent rifle down on the ammo table. He aims his smile into one of her cameras as she tabulates his progress, a holo-screen popping up in front of him to detail his progress of the series of rounds he’d just completed.

“For the overall simulation time period, your accuracy increased at an incline of 4.5% with each run Agent Washington,” She sounded incredibly pleased with him. “And your accuracy from your last logged time has increased a full 13.7% in this simulation. That is an impressive improvement.”  
  
“Thank you F.I.L.S.S.,” He chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. Not quite as satisfying as watching Tucker flip him off and collapse in exhaustion, but it still felt damn good.   
  
“Would you like to run another simulation?”  
  
“Is there anyone on deck waiting for the room?” He knew he should go grab something to eat, check his schedule, figure out exactly where it was he needed to be and whether or not he had time to slip into the recovery ward to check on York… But if he could linger in the simplicity of training for longer he would jump at the chance.

He knew the minute he walked out of the room he needed to buckle down and start taking steps to changing things, and honestly… fuck it if he even knew where to start.  
  
“Agent Carolina has been waiting in the on deck area. She has not logged in for the waitlist. Would you like me to ask her if she would like the room, Agent Washington?”

Carolina. Fuck.  
  
“No that’s okay, F.I.L.S.S.,” Wash ran another hand through his hair and slipped his helmet back on, locking it into place. “I’m done with the room. Thanks for the help.”   
  
“My pleasure, Agent Washington.”   
  
With that Wash logged off and watched his stats clear out before taking a deep, steadying breath. He exited the training room and headed up into the on deck waiting room to check his training schedule, his upcoming mission prep and just try to act normal.   
  
The sight of that familiar aqua armor sent a sour pang through his chest and there was nothing to act as a distraction this time. Putting his helmet back on had been a good move because he was absolutely unable to stop the sour twist he felt at his lips when he looked at her.  
  
“Morning, Carolina,” Wash greeted her with a wave, heading over to a computer console, trying to focus on the pleasant ache in his muscles instead of the way that she was tracking his progress across the room.   
  
“Good morning.”  
  
He didn’t need to see her to picture the expression on her face beneath her helmet, or the way she was standing to know she was eyeing him carefully. He didn’t look away from the screen in front of him. “You okay? You’re looking a little tense there Boss.”

It felt so strange to use the old moniker for her now. Felt wrong almost after everything. But he had a part to play and he’d called her ‘Boss’ more often than not before.   
  
“That was some training session,” Carolina ignored his statement, broaching her own topic carefully. “And a hell of a spike in your accuracy Wash.”  
  
“Just had a good day, I guess,” Wash tried to stay casual and bright, to be for her what he was once, but it was fucking hard. All he wanted to do was turn and scream at her for leaving him behind again, leaving them all behind to run off with fucking Epsilon, and left them to be captured and tortured and--  
  
“Right,” Carolina’s voice brought him back. He inhaled softly. That was happening far too often for his liking. She didn’t stop watching him and with a sigh he turned away from the computer.  
  
“You need something, Carolina? You’re kind of boring holes into the back of my head there.” There was a bite to his tone that set the hackles up in her shoulders and that had a sourness settling in his stomach. Fuck, this wasn’t going well.  
  
“I don’t know, Washington,” Her own tone was sharp, sharper than he expected even as a response to his own. “Why don’t you tell me? You’ve always been a good shot, but that,” she points down to the training room floor, “Was too good to be true. So why don’t you tell me what you think it is I need from you?”  
  
It was the way she stood, tight and tense. It wasn’t how he remembered her being. It was how he’d last seen her, after the shipwreck in the canyon back on Chorus. It was all wrong and he didn’t like it, could do nothing but sigh and let his own tension settle and wash away as he reached to unhook and take off his helmet.  
  
“Did I do something wrong, Boss?” He asks her, tired, and wow this was only day one of what was sure to be utter hell. Who knew confronting the living ghosts of his past, well present (whatever it was, he was already not caring at this point), and walking the halls of his haunted memories could be so exhausting?  
  
Taking his helmet off seemed to be the right move though, or at least one surprising enough that it threw Carolina off guard.   
  
“I…” She’s hesitating. Wash can’t remember a time where he’s ever truly seen Carolina hesitate before. Her helmet comes off too after a moment, and he swears to god he doesn’t recognize her.   
  
The last time he saw Carolina with her helmet off had been on Chorus, before she and Epsilon had disappeared together. Her hair, as long as ever, had been in need of a dye-job, the dark blonde roots far outgrown. Dark circles had been tattooed under her eyes and there were hard lines around her mouth, even when she smiled for the rare occasion. 

But that didn’t matter now. Because now, she looked like she always had in his memories. Hair shocking red and beautiful, eyes bright and sharp, but not yet haunted, and her mouth was surprisingly soft, and well used to smiles.   
  
She brushes her bangs out of her face and she sighs before speaking. “No Wash. You’ve done nothing wrong. Sorry. Just… wound tight. Because of… York.”  
  
“Yeah,” Wash agrees, voice quiet. It was hard to be mad at this Carolina. This woman who’d run down to the floor against protocol and orders and fell to her knees at York’s side. It was easy to forget how close she’d always been to York. How much she meant to him, and he to her. It was far easier to forget than to remember and wonder how the hell she hadn’t put that first in the long run…  
  
“How is he?” She asks, bringing Wash to the present again, away from thought about the Carolina that hurt him, that left him again without a word. She sets her helmet down on the table pressed up against the viewing window. “I haven’t been in to see him yet. He’s refusing visitors, but I know you and North were there last night.”  
  
Wash blinks in surprise, and she smiles.   
  
“How did you--”  
  
“Wash. Come on,” Carolina laughs. “Don’t bullshit me rookie.” She sounded so fond in that moment. God, his head was spinning.   
  
“Right,” he manages. This was the biggest fucking case of whiplash he’d even been through in his entire life. And that was definitely saying something. “Right, I… he’s good. Or well… he’s okay. He definitely gonna have a scar.”  
  
“Bet he’ll love that,” Carolina sighs, shaking her head. Wash wants to cry. It’s so clear how much she cares. He missed that. He missed this Carolina, this woman who cared about her team and no matter what was juggling their best interests and who just… cared about them. He needed this woman when he was with the sim troopers. He needed her when they were looking for Epsilon, and then the Director. He needed her when things were falling apart and he felt like everything was so close to falling apart. He needed her on Chorus, after the crash, when suddenly he had two men to look after, and the reds to babysit. He needed her when Felix showed up, and when Locus followed, and he needed her when he died.   
  
This Carolina wouldn’t have left him and the others alone, she wouldn’t have run off with a barely stable AI to play vigilante or whatever they were doing. She would have seen right through Felix and shot him on the spot, the little prick. She would have come to the Feds and got him out.   
  
“He’ll get over it,” Wash manages around a rough swallow of the emotion in his throat. God dammit no, he couldn’t do this. “It’s York. He’ll bounce back and be making jokes about it and sneaking out of Recovery before we know it.”  
  
She laughs at that, a soft sound and the smile that accompanies it is a mix of fond and amused. “Yeah, sounds like him. Glad he’s okay.” Her smile fades as easily as it had come, her eyes drifting to the light of the leaderboard, displayed clearly on the wall. Wash follows her eyes and swallows back the bitter distaste that coats his tongue at the sight of the damn thing. Carolina’s lips curl sourly as well, but for different reasons. Her name sits at the top, and right beneath it, where York’s name should be… is Texas.

 _Won’t stay that way for long,_ Wash thinks to himself. _Soon it’ll flip and then so will Carolina..._

“No one knows anything about her,” Carolina says, speaking so softly that Wash can barely make out the words. He frowns, watching her carefully. Christ had her animosity started this early? He was sure it hadn’t been until Tex had shown up at the Sarcoghphagus that shit had gotten started. Had he been that oblivious?  
  
“Well… none of us knew anything about each other when we started,” Wash says, running a hand through his hair, unsure of where to set his footing on this. “And it’s not like she had a chance to get off on the right foot…”  
  
“Hmm,” Carolina hums softly, barely an acknowledgement, her eyes never leaving the board. Wash blinks and feels uneasy, and like she’s already forgotten he was here. She did that a lot, when they were reunited with the sim troopers, would stare off for periods of time and be almost unresponsive until something snapped her back to attention.

Silence settles between them and Wash clears his throat to bring her attention abck to him, with no success. He sighs and turns  his helmet over in his hands.

“I’m… gonna go, Boss. Gotta grab breakfast before the mess shuts down.” That got the barest of responses out of her, a nod and a soft acknowledgement as her arms crossed over her chest.

He swallows back another sigh and turns to leave. He wasn’t hungry, even though he knows he should eat, but he was used to running on the minimum. After a time though he’d learned the art of mind over matter over stomach.   
  
And his mind is focused on thing only now.   
  
Tex.

\----------------------------------

She moved like a phantom through water, paying no mind and attention to the people that moved the halls alongside her. Everyone seemed content to give her a wide berth, and Wash got it. Tex just kind of exuded this wave of eternal “Get the fuck away”, and she was scary.

But he wasn’t afraid of her anymore. At least that’s what he was telling himself because like it or not he had things to do and he needed to at least try and extend an olive branch toward her. Which no one had seemed to do until it was too late. He couldn’t let it get that bad.

He owed her a second chance just as badly as he did everyone else. Probably owed her more considering that everything the Director did was for her.

...No, not for her. For Allison.

Wash shook his head to clear his mind and tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. _Come on, I can do this. I fought her before. Lots of hers, a whole army of Tex-bots. Talking to her should be easy_.

He lingered for a second longer in the doorway to the locker room before taking off up the hall after her before he could find a reason to wimp out. “ Agent Texas,” he called out, ignoring the heads whipping to watch him, looking at him like he had gone insane.

She didn’t slow down, or even turn her head to glance in his direction. Her armor just continued down the hall, looking like she was heading down toward the smallest of the training arenas. Wash sighed and picked up the pace. Of course this couldn’t just be fucking simple.

“Texas… Hey Tex!”

Surprisingly enough, that’s what made her stop. Abruptly, in the middle of the hallway, and she turned to face him with a tilt to her helmet that Wash wanted to say was surprised, but he wasn’t too sure.

“Tex?” She asked once he had caught up to her. There was a little bubble of space around them, or that’s how it seemed as people definitely gave them all a bit of space as they all went about their business. Wash tried to ignore them, huffing a small laugh instead, it hitting him that she never went by Tex in PFL (Not this early and not to everyone at least), and he’d only heard her referred to as such while actively when he was still Recovery One, when he’d first met the Reds and Blues.

“Sorry… I got Wash pretty much the first day I hit the deck. I guess it’s just habit to shorten down the names.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, fingers catching on the locks to his helmet, but he didn’t dare unlock them. Something told him this would be easier in armor. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I just…” She stared at him a moment, her hands settling on her hips. “I just didn’t expect it is all. You’re Washington, right? The rookie?” He couldn’t help but laugh again. He hadn’t been a rookie for a long fucking time, but that’s what everyone around here still saw him as.

“Yeah, I guess.” There was a pause, an awkward sort of tension filling it silently. Tex gave no prompting to fill it. Wash cleared his throat, feeling all the kid that everyone thought the was as he did so. “I just… That was a really amazing fight the other day. Thought you should know.”

“That’s… surprising.” Her helmet tilted to the side again, and this time there was no mistaking the vibes he was reading off her this time. She was thinking, calm and calculated, but it definitely wasn’t in a negative way. If he had to hazard a guess he’d say she was more amused than anything.

“Why’s that?”

“After the way your buddy got hurt I was pretty sure everyone was ready to fucking gut me.” She sounded resigned, regretful almost. Wash winced mentally at that, thinking about how Tex had been iced out pretty much from the start the first time around. Some of that had been her own doing, but there was a significant amount that came from nearly everyone else and that wasn’t good. Not in the fucking slightest.

“It’s wasn’t your fault.” Wash shrugged, the last bits of tension still riding high in his shoulders, but it wasn’t because of her anymore. “You’re the reason he got out of the whole mess with just an injury. If you hadn’t shot the paint at him, he’d have probably died from the blast. If anything we should be thanking you.” She couldn’t see it, but reflexively he was smiling reassuringly at her.

“Okay…” She still clearly a bit hesitant, but the set of her hands isn’t so rigid anymore. “Then thanks, I guess.”  
  
“No big,” Wash shrugs. “I uh, just wanted to say that. And to say welcome to the team.” God he sounded so… much like a kid, dear God on high. “So uh… yeah. See you in training?”  
  
“Not likely,” she chuckles, a soft short sound, but hey, it was progress. “But I’ll see you around, Washington.”  
  
“It’s Wash,” he insists, still smiling under his helmet. She dips her head in acknowledgement of the nickname before turning and striding back up the hall on her way. He has to laugh softly to himself as he turns in the opposite direction and finally heads toward the mess.   
  
That went well. He thinks. At the very least he didn’t fuck it up. Which was good. Maybe certain things wouldn’t need to be as hard as he thought it would be.

Only time would tell.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr!
> 
> http://sights-sounds-and-rain.tumblr.com/


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